


pin you to my collarbone

by hamiltrashed



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex, Sexual Tension, i didn't just tease it this time, love in the time of apocalypse, no seriously there's actual explicit nsfw sexy times in this, this is basically just porn okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamiltrashed/pseuds/hamiltrashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>maybe it’s something a little more primal, an urge long felt and long ignored up to this moment. but really, neither of them particularly care what leads them to it, only that there is a sense of <i>finally</i> when rick makes an impulsive move and kisses daryl hard enough to bruise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pin you to my collarbone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [no_path_untaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_path_untaken/gifts), [SkariCovers (skarlatha)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/gifts).



> This is for my wifey, **no_path_untaken** , who deserves Rickyl sex for all that she does for me, and **skarlatha** , from whom I borrowed the very amusing idea of Daryl carrying around lube. Hope you don't mind!

it begins in a garden, just as an old book says that all things did. it’s not a pretty garden; without the rain and the patient hands of someone to tend them, the flowers are all dying. in their defence, they’re dying a hell of a lot slower than everything else, but they’re still going the way all things must go in the end. to everything, a season.

they find the previously unexplored, empty house on a run, with its vast, fenced in backyard and the flowerbed on its last legs. something about it prompts them to bring life back to the desolate place. or maybe it’s something a little more primal, an urge long felt and long ignored up to this moment. but really, neither of them particularly care what leads them to it, only that there is a sense of _finally_ when rick makes an impulsive move and kisses daryl hard enough to bruise.

rick is half expecting to be punched in the face. the logical side of his brain knows that daryl’s eyes have been glancing knowingly his way for a long time now, but the more emotional side is cringing back, even as his tongue is in daryl’s mouth, hoping he hasn’t misread all of this. hoping, hoping...

daryl doesn’t punch him. instead, he tears at rick’s shirt, scatters the buttons in such a way that in the midst of the lust clouding his mind, rick is already attempting to craft a story to tell the others about why his shirt, for the most part fairly clean and intact, is now minus more than half the buttons. somehow, he doesn’t think ‘the walkers were trying to get some’ is gonna fly. he snorts out a laugh against daryl’s lips even as he thinks it.

“you laughin’ at me, grimes?”

“at how desperate you are?” rick answers, far more smoothly than he feels. “not at all.”

daryl mouths at his collarbone, nips at him with his teeth. “liar,” he says, and then his hands are everywhere, all over rick’s chest, one calloused thumb roughly swiping across a nipple before they continue to roam. they move down to rick’s hips, then up over his back. his touch is something holy, moves something in rick he hasn't felt in way too long. daryl presses his face against rick’s and whispers, “you’re gettin’ skinny.”

rick leans into him, body aching for more of those hands, and grins. he can feel the devil on his shoulder egging him on, the angel standing in front of him. he drops to his knees, hands working daryl’s pants open, quick and effortless. “then feed me,” he says, eyes tracing a path up daryl’s body to his face.

daryl’s eyes go wide and he makes an entirely undignified noise halfway between a moan and a whimper that speaks to just how much he wants this. there’s an identical noise building somewhere inside rick, but he swallows it down at the same time he swallows down daryl. daryl is already hard and heavy on his tongue, and his fingers are sliding into rick’s hair then, legs trembling a little as he presses his hips forward to ask for more, almost more than rick thinks he can give. still, he manages, and in an impressive feat he hasn’t performed since college, takes daryl all the way in.

it lasts only a couple of minutes before daryl is gasping, almost panting, and he tugs at rick’s hair, unable to grab at anything else. his voice comes out lazy and slow, like he’s drunk on what rick is doing to him. “jesus fuckin’ _christ_ , rick, you got a hell of a mouth on you...”

rick pulls back before he chokes, leaving daryl wet and throbbing, slides his hand slowly along his length and smirks. “heard that one before.”

daryl bends down to kiss the smug look off of rick’s mouth. “you ain’t ever gonna hear it from anyone but me again, we clear on that?”

“crystal,” rick says, and he means it. for whatever it’s worth, he has no desire for anyone else. daryl is the only thing he's wanted this badly since he can't remember when. rick ranks him up there with shelter, food, and safety in his list of needs, and that longing is building up to something better now.

daryl joins him on the grass, quickly finds his way out of his clothing, shoving it aside to rest near his forgotten crossbow and reaching for rick. he yanks him close by his belt, gives him a quick, wet kiss before his hand starts moving over the front of rick’s jeans. it’s daryl’s turn to smirk, the corner of his mouth turning up in a wicked grin when he feels how hard rick already is. “nice to know that suckin’ my dick gets you goin’. for future reference, and all.”

“future reference?” rick asks, ignoring the pathetically hopeful note in his own voice. daryl sounds like god himself and rick is bowing down. 

“mm,” daryl confirms, “future. as in again and again. as in you’re gonna fuck me real good right now and tomorrow i’m gonna bend you over and take a turn. as in this is gonna be happening an awful lot. you okay with it?”

rick nods a little dumbly as daryl’s hands pull at his belt. he makes quick work of it, as only hands trained in the art of swiftly reloading a crossbow can do. “c’mon, please, daryl...”

daryl fingers the shining belt buckle a little absently before meeting rick's eyes again. “stop begging,” he says. “or i’m gonna use this belt to tie up your hands and give you somethin’ to really beg for.” those words are fuel to rick’s fire and he leans in to kiss daryl, biting at his bottom lip, tugging with his teeth.

“fucker,” he says, pulling back reluctantly, and there’s no heat behind the word, only affection. 

“fuck you,” comes the amused reply, and rick knows daryl is loving the way he's pushing forward against his hand, anxious for more.

“thought i was gonna fuck _you_ ,” rick reminds him through gritted teeth, because daryl’s taking a goddamn awfully long time just to get one zipper down. he reaches for it himself but daryl smacks his hands away. the look on his face says he knows it’s pissing rick off, and he takes it even slower, popping the button open, dragging the zipper down little by little until rick is ready to explode. “so help me GOD, daryl dixon, if you don’t get your hands on me right now, i’m -” he cuts himself off with a growl that comes from somewhere way down deep in the places that rick knows only daryl could move. “oh, holy fuck, daryl, _yes_.” rick can feel his eyes rolling back as he immediately pushes his hips forward, trying to get more of the warm friction of daryl’s palm wrapped around him.

it doesn’t take long for rick to push his hand away; every twist of daryl’s wrist is bringing him up to a fast-approaching edge, one he's not ready to jump off of quite yet. “you gotta stop,” rick warns him, even as he tries to get more, and daryl pulls his hand away. rick shudders with the loss of his touch and his eyes open to find daryl leaning over to his abandoned clothing, digging in one of the pockets of his pants. he comes away triumphant after a moment, holding a little bottle in front of rick’s face. 

rick can’t help but laugh. “so this is what supply run means to you, huh?”

daryl’s eyes narrow. “i’ve had this since the farm, waitin’ for you to finally wise up and get your dick in me.” rick tries to take in the implications of that statement.

“you carry it with you?” he asks, bemused, and daryl presses the bottle into his hand, rolling his eyes.

“christ, rick, you’re fuckin’ hot, but you’re an idiot sometimes.”

rick is inclined to agree. had he known, had he really been sure, then the bottle in his hand right now would never have made it off the farm still full. with everything that was happening then, daryl would have been a welcome form of relief - and release.

still, it matters little now when daryl is making a noise of impatience, taking the bottle back and opening it. he pours a little in one hand and a little in one of rick’s, before carefully recapping it and tossing it back onto his pile of clothes. rick only has the sense to do with it what he’s supposed to when he watches daryl opening himself up and can’t resist touching himself at the sight. 

daryl, up on his knees now and rocking backward onto his own hand, is making sounds so fucking sinful that rick is considering finding the nearest church after this is done. trying to keep it together long enough for this to happen, rick doesn’t waste time in laying back in the warm grass. it’s tall now, un-mowed for who knows how long, and this gives him something to hold onto when daryl decides he’s done with his fingers and needs rick instead. 

rick’s hands shake and he can’t help the groan of utter _want_ that he makes when daryl is sliding down on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. rick’s back arches, his hands move to daryl’s hips, and he pulls daryl down as he pushes up, needing more of the feeling. he’s pretty damn sure his whole world right now is centered right there between his legs, where he’s - holy fuck - _inside_ daryl, and daryl is rolling his hips slow-but-hard, taking rick deeper and deeper.

rick has never seen this side of daryl, the one that makes demands and issues orders about how this is gonna go from now on. he can’t complain; he knows as soon as this is over, daryl will return to the reserved, almost shy person that he always is. until the next time, at least. the door is open now, and rick is free to come and go as he pleases. come being the operative word.

as if to emphasise this newly revealed side of himself, daryl growls and slams himself down harder on rick. “fu- _uck_ ,” he drawls out, tossing his head back, hair falling away from eyes shut tight. “ain’t ever gonna get enough of this.”

rick’s nails, short as they are, dig into daryl’s hips, but daryl doesn’t even seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't care. “me either,” he says. "fuck, i swear you won't have to.” 

“they’ll all figure it out,” daryl says, hand closing around his own cock now, stroking in time with the way he’s riding rick, and jesus christ if that’s not the most unbelievably perfect thing rick has ever seen. “won’t get away with it for very long.” the carefree tone of his voice betrays the worry of the words.

“don’t fucking care,” rick groans, because it's clear daryl doesn't either. he can feel daryl’s muscles squeezing him like a vice, and he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, can feel it building somewhere near base of his spine, in the pit of his stomach. he wants it too much for it to last an hour, even a half hour. “c’mon daryl, faster, baby -” he doesn’t know where the word comes from, only that it seems to spur daryl on, and it’s a good thing too, because rick is starting to lose any sense of rhythm to the way his hips are trying to meet daryl on every upward thrust

“god, right there, rick, _fuck_ me,” is daryl’s only answer, and then, leaning forward to look rick in the eye, “come inside me.” he keeps eye contact, pushing himself back harder and it’s making rick flush all over with the intimacy of it. he can feel goosebumps raising on his skin. daryl bites his lip and whispers, "fuck, rick, gonna paint you pretty, so close -"

rick's close now too, so close it almost hurts. when daryl breaks eye contact to throw his head back with a long, low moan, rick knows he's gone. all he gets out is, “i’m -” before his hands tighten around daryl’s hips and he pulls him down hard, one more time, and completely loses it. it takes him a long, long moment before he realises the gasps and cries he can hear are his own. the feeling is fucking exquisite, and he can barely breathe as his hips move weakly, riding out waves of almost unbearable bliss. he's still shaking as he comes down a minute later, and he opens his eyes to look at daryl. it's then that he realises there's a sticky mess of white across his stomach and chest, that he realises daryl already came and, so lost in his own orgasm, he fucking missed it. 

he can't hide his disappointment. "can't believe i missed you coming all over me like that, jesus christ..." he knows he'll have plenty more opportunities to see what daryl's face looks like when he's responsible for him coming again and again, but this was the first time, and he feels like a selfish asshole now. "i'm sorry."

daryl shakes his head and laughs. "i knew it was coming and it even surprised me. don't worry. that was the greatest fuck of my life, s'all you need to worry about."

rick smiles in spite of himself, brings his fingers up to his chest, drags them through daryl's come and sucks them clean. daryl groans and slides off of him, rolling onto his back next to rick in the grass. "fuck, don't do that. ain't ready for round two yet."

"pity we can't wait around to fit round two in," rick says, and his hand finds daryl's in the grass. "they'd send out a search party."

daryl laughs. "imagine the looks on their faces if they found us here in someone's backyard, fucking."

rick laughs too, and he thinks that daryl was right before - they'll all know before long. still, he stands by what he said. he doesn't care. if anyone's got anything to say, they can take it up with the crossbow lying in the grass a few feet away. he sighs, knows they have to go back soon, but tries to savour just a few more moments alone with daryl. time has a way of butting in, but he's not going to let it ruin the aftermath of this. so instead, he turns his head to look at daryl and says, with some hesitance, "love you, y'know."

"good," comes daryl's gruff reply. "'cause it was gonna be real damn awkward if i told you and you didn't feel the same." he smiles and rick leans in to kiss him, taking the time to get really lost in it. there will be many more times, but this is the first, and after they leave, the enchantment of the first time will break and it will be only a memory. the best one, and one to build upon, but still, just a memory, one rick will only be allowed to keep in his pocket and pin to every inch of him. he's not eager to go knowing their shouts have probably drawn walkers and that they likely won't be able to return here. the backyard fence isn't sturdy, and it, like everything else, will break and become a haven for the dead. but they'll be long gone by then, at the least, and far more alive than before.

it begins in a garden, just as an old book says that all things did. and as for an end? well... not all stories need one.

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "[Bug Eyed Beauty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yosL3rdMmA)" by Josh Pyke. Listen to it. It's a revelation of a song in 1 minute and 45 seconds, I swear.


End file.
